[Imladris]

Corn fluttered wearily to Lira’s hand and rested his head in the hollow between her thumb and forefinger. Lira smiled, recognizing it as a sign to be petted. With the finger of her left hand, she softly ruffled his jet neck feathers, admiring the flashes of deep blue that glimmered and then disappeared in the wavering, flaring light of the restless fire. Lifting his head, Corn’s black eyes stared deeply into the blue pools of Lira’s. Remembering Corn’s strange action at the rock where Falowik had seen Eodwine captive and how he had flown to the north and then returned, Lira murmured softly in elvish, “What did you see my friend, where did you go?”

The bird stared silently at her, his eyes grew blacker and his feathers drooped. Sorrow flowed from him -- deep sorrow. Lira’s spirit sank when her premonitions of dread and danger had been confirmed by Corn. Whether the evil rested in Fornost or not, she did not know. “Cannot you not tell me?” she whispered, touching the bird’s head with her lips.

Corn suddenly sprang to life and began to frantically pace up and down Lira’s arm, crowing violently, breaking the peaceful silence of the night. His sharp claws left small lines of crimson upon her flesh, and his wings flapped vigorously in her ears. Pushing up from Lira’s arms, he flew to the north, then returned to her arm and stood as still as a statue, his black eyes glittering sharply in the light, staring at Lira, then facing towards the north. “Fornost,” he croaked.

Lira remained silent, thinking back to the day that they had found the rock. There had been no sign, no indication whatever of their enemy. Yet Corn had believed Falowik and Lira trusted the man himself as well. Kissing his head, Lira sang softly in elvish to him, thanking him.